


Little Pieces of You

by bittlebunny (american_homos_story)



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Crack, Inspired By Tumblr, M/M, its all just funny ridiculous goodness, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-18 15:17:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7320457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/american_homos_story/pseuds/bittlebunny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack is sure he's cleared his apartment of any signs of Eric's presence when Shitty comes to visit, but seeing Eric's red shorts dangling from the ceiling fan is a little bit of a shock to his system.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Pieces of You

Jack has been meticulous in preparation for Shitty’s visit. Sticky notes taken down from fridge (and kept somewhere safe of course; he’d never throw them out,) signs of Bitty stowed away, he even locked their shared closet. Yes, they're already sharing a closet. He does a final sweep, his heart racing a bit. Shitty is supposed to be there at 3, and it’s already 3:05. He’s infamous for being slightly late, though, so Jack isn’t surprised.

He damn near jumps out of his skin when there’s a sudden rapping at his door, followed by the sound of Shitty’s voice. It’s muffled through the door, but Jack is able to make out something like, “Hey Zimmermann, it’s Shits. Let me the fuck in!”

Jack sighs and chuckles, shaking his head as he opens the door and is immediately tackled in a hug.

“It’s good to see you, Shitty,” he says through laughter.

Shitty pulls away from the hug solemnly, looking Jack in the eye and saying, “I’ve missed you buddy.” He then immediately cracks a smile. “You got beer in the fridge?”

Jack rolls his eyes and pushes him away.  _ “That’s _ your priority here? You don’t want to catch up first?”

“Jack, my beautiful son,” Shitty starts as he goes back out into the hall to retrieve his suitcase, “I don’t see why we can’t do both.”

“Fine,” Jack says, his heart feeling light and giddy. “I’ll get your bag for you!”

Shitty swats his hands away. “Shut up, I can get it! We’re best bros, you don’t have to play the doting host, dude. Just tell me where my room is and I’ll be right out.”

“Right down that hallway, second on the left,” Jack says, pointing.

“Sweet. That beer better be ready for me!”

Jack laughs again—he laughs at almost everything Shitty says—and nods. While Shitty drags his bag into the apartment, Jack goes into the kitchen and opens up the fridge. He has a brief moment of irrational panic thinking about what could’ve happened if he had forgotten to remove the notes.

As he grabs two beers and closes the door, he exhales slowly when he sees a metal surface void of any kind of love or warmth.

Shitty will be the first person he tells about his relationship with Eric, that he’s sure of. Just. Not yet. He’s not ready for it.

He comes back into the living room as Shitty practically bounces down the hall, grinning madly.

“Jack, this place is fucking huge. I get that you’re loaded now more than ever, but what do you need all this space for? You been bringing ladies home?” Shitty asks, waggling his eyebrows.

Jack’s heart catches slightly but he forces a chuckle. “Don’t be ridiculous. I just like to feel comfortable. Here,” he says, handing the beer to Shitty as they make the slight descent into the room.

“The multi-level thing is a damn nice touch, I gotta say,” Shitty says, collapsing into a large, comfy chair.

Jack nods as he sits on the couch, putting his feet up on the coffee table and laying back. He closes his eyes and takes a sip of beer, letting it bathe his tongue in cool, bubbly comfort. When he opens his eyes, he nearly chokes on the liquid.

There’s a pair of little red shorts hanging from the fan above them. He quickly averts his eyes, afraid of calling attention to them, and forces the liquid down.

Shitty frowns at him, and eyebrow raised. “You okay?”

“Hmm? Yeah, fine,” Jack lies, trying to quiet the sound of his heart beating in his ears.

Shitty chuckles and shrugs, taking a sip of his own beer and leaning forward. “So how’s everything? I mean, obviously you’ve got a fucking sick apartment and a pro hockey career, but how are you doing?”

“Things are good, Shits,” Jack says quickly, mind racing. How the fuck had the shorts gotten  _ onto the goddamn ceiling fan? _ He’s retracing every step of Bitty’s last visit. Dinner in the kitchen. Making out in the kitchen. Leaving the kitchen while dinner was in the oven to… Oh. He vaguely remembers clothes being torn off and thrown haphazardly. He also remembers Eric deciding to change before dinner. How could he have forgotten about his shorts, though?

“Care to elaborate?”

Jack shrugs. “I, just… I’m okay, if that’s what you’re wondering. I don’t feel too pressured or stressed or anything. I just feel… good.”

“Well that’s good to hear! Hey, I’m gonna hit the bathroom real quick. Was it the first one on the right?”

Jack breathes deeply, nodding. This’ll be his opportunity to get the shorts down before Shitty can see them. Shitty sets his beer down on the table, very politely using a coaster, and leaves the room. 

As soon as he hears the bathroom door close, Jack jumps into action. The fan is too high for him to reach, so he stands up on the couch to try to get them. They’re still out of reach; they’re sitting on the very inside of the blade. He leans forward just slightly testing his balance. Jack doesn’t want to lean on the fan and break it, but his arms aren’t long enough still. He groans as he hears the bathroom door open, quickly dropping back down into his previous position.

“Brah, that sink is so fucking nice. Like, if I ever had a child, I would want them baptized in that thing,” Shitty remarks as he comes back into the living room. Jack forces another laugh, glancing nervously at the shorts.

Shitty sits back down, taking a long swig of beer. “This is good. Is this some of that fancy microbrew craft bullshit?”

“Yeah, I got it at—“

“I’ve never really understood this stuff. Like, for me at least, beer is beer is beer, you know?” Shitty says, finishing the bottle. Despite the previous comment, he asks, “Mind if I grab another?”

“Sure! They’re in the fridge. Second shelf from the top,” Jack says, glancing between Shitty’s retreating back and the fan. His brain is screaming at him to do something, but he doesn’t want Shitty to see. He panics. Picks up a pillow and throws it at the fan. He's hoping to knock the shorts down that way, but the only result is that the fan starts to swing lazily around, the shorts still very much suspended. His eyes are wide, fists clenched.

“Brah, you’ve still got fucking pie in here?” Shitty calls from the kitchen. Shit. Jack had forgotten about the pie. “Bits sent those pie care packages out like a week ago! I understand you’re probably on some nutrition plan but c’mon, there’s only like two slices missing!”

Jack exhales in relief. He’d also forgotten that Bitty had sent everybody pies. He’s safe, for now.

“You can have some if you want!” he calls back. “It’s maple crusted apple.”

“Fucking score!”

He’s too stressed to laugh now. He watches as the blades spin slowly around and around, mimicking the gears turning in his head. He picks up another pillow and tries to hit the shorts at the right angle when they come around again, but he misses. The pillow hits the wall with a thud.

“What the fuck was that?” Shitty yells.

“Nothing! Noisy neighbors. Bird hit a window. Not sure.” Jack shoots back frantically.

Shitty snorts as he comes back into the room, a beer in one hand and a plate of pie in the other. “Hope it’s okay that I found the plates and forks and shit.”

“Yeah, fine, make yourself at home,” Jack mutters.

Shitty sits down and puts the plate on the coffee table. “Jack, are you sure you’re alright? You seem distracted and shit.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Really. It’s just been a long week.” The fan is still rotating ominously above them, and it’s taking all of Jack’s willpower not to look directly at it. Every few seconds there’s a flash of bright red in his peripheral vision.

“If you say so!” Shitty says, taking a bite of his pie. “Oh fuck, I’d forgotten how good this kind is.”

“Yeah, it’s my favorite,” Jack says. He can tell his voice sounds a little breathy and strained. His palms are sweating.  _ Please, just don’t look up. _

Shitty cocks an eyebrow and puts the plate down. “Uh, I think I’m gonna get changed into something more comfortable,” Shitty says. It almost sounds like a question.

Jack forces a grin and nods. “I’ll, uh, just be here, I guess.”

“Mm hm,” Shitty says suspiciously, squinting at Jack as he leaves the room.

Jack quickly jumps up out of his seat, looking around for something,  _ anything. _ He does a full turn, eyes stopping on the pool table. He inhales triumphantly, jumping over the couch and grabbing a pool stick. He gets back onto the couch and uses the stick to first stop the involuntary spinning of the fan. He then slips it through one leg of the shorts and fishes them off the fan, finally laughing now that he’s safe.

He puts the pool stick back and is on his way to his room to stash the shorts away when he hears, “So Jack, what’s it like playing pro?” Shitty is coming down the hall, chattering casually. “I mean, obviously, it’s the same sport. But it’s gotta feel different, right?”

Again, Jack panics. The shorts are in his hands and Shitty’s about to come around the corner, so he reaches behind himself and shoves the shorts into his pants. Then, he runs back to the couch and sits down. He can’t tell if his face is red or not, but it feels like he’s sitting on hot coals.

Shitty sits down again, kicking his feet up and bringing his arms behind his head. He’s looking at Jack expectantly.

“I think I’m gonna change, too,” Jack says nervously, licking his lips.

“Uh, why? You’re already practically in pajamas…”

Jack bites his lip, cursing internally. His eyes go to the bottle in front of him. He hastily picks it up, going to take a sip and  _ accidentally _ spilling beer down his front.

“Oh, shit! Such a waste, too. I’ll be right back,” he says, grinning apologetically. Shitty opens his mouth to say something, looking completely confused, but Jack is out of the room before words can leave his lips.

He dials Eric’s numbers as he pulls the shorts out of his pants, shoving them in a drawer.

“Hi, honey! Aren’t you supposed to be with Shitty right now?”

“Bits, did you, uh,  _ forget _ something when you were here last?”

Jack hears a giggle. “Are you talking about the shorts?”

“This is serious, Eric. What if Shitty had seen? Listen, I love seeing little pieces of you around the apartment, but what if— “

Eric gasps. “Hold on, they were  _ still up there _ when Shitty showed up?”

“Yes,” Jack says, exasperated.

“I thought you would have noticed them sooner. Lord…” Bitty breathes.

“So you knew they were up there and you didn’t tell me?”

He can practically  _ hear _ the defensive frown on Eric’s face. “That was almost a week ago, Jack Zimmermann. It wasn’t my fault it took you so long to notice them. I saw them after dinner that night and I thought it would be funny to let you find them.”

Jack sighs, running a hand down his face. He’s somewhere between laughing and crying. “Okay, just… No more surprises, alright? You’re going to give me heart problems, love.”

“I didn’t mean to put you in that position, I just thought… I’m sorry, Jack.”

Jack smiles softly, eyes still on the shorts in the drawer. “It’s fine. Crisis averted, anyway.”

“Is Shitty still there?”

“Yeah, I spilled beer on myself as an excuse to leave.”

Eric laughs. “You did what now?"

“It’s… a long story, Bits. I’ll tell you about it next time I see you in person. And Eric? I love you.”

“I love you too, Jack,” Eric murmurs. “Now go back out there and have a good time. Tell Shitty that I say… Oh wait. Maybe not a good idea.”

Jack pouts. “No, not really. It’s okay, he’s eating some of that pie you left, so he’s thinking about you anyway.”

Bitty chuckles lightly. “Alright then. I’ll talk to you later, honey.”

Jack hangs up the phone, sighing contentedly. He leans against the dresser, closing the drawer and laughing in spite of himself. He then remembers he’s currently covered in beer, so he changes his shirt hastily and joins Shitty in the living room again.

Shitty gives him another weird look as he sits down.

“All better," Jack says casually, all tension gone. "So, what’s been going on with you, Shits?”

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by [this post](http://ziimbits.tumblr.com/post/146557524615/concept-a-fic-where-jack-is-relieved-to-have) on Tumblr made by [@ziimbits](http://ziimbits.tumblr.com)!!  
> My tumblr is [HERE](http://bittlebunny.tumblr.com) :D


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